


Up A Creek

by Karios



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Dubious Medical Science, F/M, It's Henry, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 04:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7670251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karios/pseuds/Karios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry didn't like anything about camping. This trip did nothing to change his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up A Creek

**Author's Note:**

> For the bingo square Creeks & Hiking. Thanks to Mel for being my second set of eyes.

Henry didn't even know how he’d died. In any other circumstances that alone would have been highly disconcerting, but presently an icy panic swam through his veins as he peeled himself out of the muddy creek. The last moments he could recall were spent snuggling next to Abigail. In such close quarters, it was hard to imagine circumstances that could have taken his life and spared hers. He dragged himself out of the slippery, muddy creek, and quickly spat a mouthful of disgusting swampy water that had found his way in his mouth and nose. Pure terror urged him forward. There was no time to assess the water’s contents, or fret about the likelihood of a second death via parasites in the water. He charged into the night with no sure way of knowing whether he was headed for camp.

Henry really wished he’d told Abigail about his condition before she suggested camping. But one minute she was going on about the wonders of childhood, and the next thing he knew he’d bundled up Abraham. They told the baby to be good for Grandmother and Grandfather, and set out for the countryside. Not that Henry hadn't tried to put up a fight.

_“I just don't consider camping a leisure activity. Sleeping outdoors means poverty, misery, or both.”_

_Abigail pouted. “But it will be fun. We'll hike, and fish and roast food straight over a fire.”_

_“I had quite enough of tents and rough conditions during the war, didn't you?”_

_“Oh Henry. That’s not the same at all. The war had gunfire, and the sound of death all around. No peace, no quiet, no crickets chirping and owls hooting to fall asleep to.”_

_“Then I’ll get you a nature recording for your birthday. Abigail, I really have no interest--”_

_“In what I’d like to do?” she asked sharply. “What if your son should want to join the scouts? Oh no, Abraham, you mustn’t. Your father has a paralyzing fear of trees.”_

_Henry opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again, as she started walking away from him. “Now you're hardly being fair.”_

_Abigail for her part, stopped at the umbrella stand, and tugged one free. “Your sense of romance is dead,” she announced, prodding him pointedly with the umbrella. “Some men would enjoy the chance, all alone, under the stars, no baby to tend to...”_

_Henry swallowed hard, and shook his head to dispel the image. “Wh-where are you going now?”_

_“For a stroll.” She thrusted open the door, letting in a gale of wind._

_“It’s pouring!” Henry waved wildly at the sheets of rain coming down just beyond the door._

_“I don't care,” she dismissed the concern, and stepped out, the door slamming behind her. She didn't even get the umbrella opened before he followed her out, kissing her fiercely._

_“The next dry weekend, we go camping.”_

And that was how he caved, one week ago.

Henry being a man of science, strove to avoid superstition. But as they drove, he couldn’t shake the feeling that going camping was a very bad idea. It was cold comfort being right, with an emphasis on cold, as he shivered against the night air. If he didn't make it back to the tent soon, he was bound to die of hypothermia. He hated hypothermia.

_“Perhaps we could park ourselves near this stream?” he suggested in a last ditch effort to make things easier on himself, should something terrible occur._

_“Oh, Henry, you really never have been camping have you?”_

_“Well..” he drew out the l-sound, debated what to say, and ultimately shook his head._

_Abigail seemed distinctly bemused. “Water attracts animals, you don't want us attacked by something large and ferocious, do you?”_

_Henry tried to look put upon. “Do you not trust me to protect you from anything?”_

_“Even if you could wrestle a bear my darling, I don't want to be eaten alive by mosquitoes.”_

_Henry sighed._

_“Besides it reeks,” complained Abigail, with an adorable crinkle of her nose._

Now that he was covered in it, he was inclined to agree. Horse farms smelt better. He was cold and wet, and so very tired and it was getting harder to remember what he was doing. Tent, something to do with a tent, he was sure. His fear remained stronger than the fog of confusion and soon he stumbled forward again. Abigail: she needed him, she could be hurt. Abigail, find Abigail.

His gaze remained skyward in a weak attempt to navigate by the stars. Henry hadn't inherited the family talent in his youth and his skill hadn't improved much in years hence. The stars, for what little help they provided in orienting him, did even less to illuminate his path. He fell repeatedly, tripping over falled limbs and roots alike. The first three stumbles resulted in minor injury. 

The scrapes and bruises were minor cuts, the sting was too minimal too be serious, but each fall slowed him down. The fourth time he hit the ground, everything went dark.

* * *

 

Henry woke to a lightening sky. His limbs were stuffed back into cloth, and he was tucked under a mound of blankets. If there been a roof overhead he might have assumed he imagined the whole thing. In pieces the night before drifted back to him, along with the same cold tendril of fear, until he registered Abigail asleep on his chest.

Even in sleep her teeth chattered. It was warmer than it had been earlier, but not comfortable enough to be without cover.

“Abby,” he whispered, running a hand up and down her back. “Abigail darling,” he tried again, and she startled, scrambling off him.

“You’re awake,” she exclaimed, her eyes red rimmed, a result of past tears--still recently shed--and likely exhaustion.

His heart ached to think of the pain he must’ve caused her. But she was here alive and safe. Henry wriggled out of the blankets and threw his arms around her neck. “Abigail, oh Abigail.” He pressed kisses to her tear-stained cheeks and into her hair. Henry let the frustrated and frightened tears flow.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she said, voice trembling. “I woke up and found that bullet hole in the tent and you were no longer beside me.”

Bullet hole? He’d been shot then. Thankfully it had hit such a lethal mark.

“I didn't know what to think,” she continued on. “So I fetched a torch and went searching, for anything, even a trail of blood.”

“You eventually found me?”

She nodded. “I did. I’d hoped to drag you back into the tent, but it was a little further than feasible so I settled for getting you dressed and warm here.” Abigail then surprised him by striking him once across the face.

Henry didn't even bother asking what that was for, but she saw fit to tell him anyway.

“You frightened me half to death. I thought you’d been killed.”

Henry glanced skyward, and rolled his eyes. If only you knew, he thought. “I was woken by gunfire, possibly the shot that hit the tent and charged out to investigate. I got startled by whatever animals were being fired at, and quickly lost course. I tried to make my way back to the tent but must have fallen.”

Abigail considered this then scowled. “That was foolish and dangerous. Why didn't you wake me?”

“I meant to. Earnestly, as soon as I knew what was going on. It all happened too quickly.”

It took her a moment, but she ultimately accepted the answer. “That doesn't explain why you were without your pyjamas.”

For a brief moment, he considered telling the truth, but he’d already lost her once today, he might not have been able to bear a second time. “I snagged them on a branch. I was still being chased at that point so I let the tree keep the pyjamas and kept running. I'm sorry I know you were fond of them.”

“Oh Henry, only you could nearly die in the woods and think lost pyjamas were what you should apologize for.”

“I’m sorry entirely. But we’re safe now, we’re both safe.” He pulled her in for another kiss which she returned.

“Just don't do that ever again,” she admonished and promptly dabbed at both their eyes with the end of her sleeve.

Henry agreed with an enthused nod. He was in no hurry to go hiking from any ocean, lake, river, stream or...creek, anytime soon.


End file.
